Viral Parasite
by PuzzleRaven
Summary: Blacklight, in a bind, calls in an old favour. Too bad it leaves him taking an offer he can't refuse, and facing a whole new set of enemies. Sentient mitochondria and a sapient virus don't exactly get on. AU (has multi-cross elements.)
1. Under Arrest

_Viral Parasite_

 _Because I love Parasite Eve and hate Third Birthday with a vengeance (rather like my views on Prototype and Prototype 2). Set after PE.2, and Prototype 1. This was part of a larger crossover I do not have time to finish, but the Parasite Eve chapters are complete._

 **Chapter One**

"Its your fucking fault!" Detweiler turned on Mercer. "Captain Cross is going to be shot."

"What the fuck?" Mercer glared back. "He's your best. Samson knows it."

"Politics. Samson got his job schmoozing," Corporal Winder said. "Cross makes him look bad. Samson catches him working with you, you might as well have handed him the fucking gun."

"Shit." Mercer began to pace, ignoring the glares from the Blackwatch squad. Detweiler ignored him.

"Anyone got any ideas?"

"Kinda hard to say its a lie." Detweiler gestured to the pacing virus. "Exhibit A."

"Yeah, well Exhibit A Mercer's not helping. We need ideas or we're all screwed."

"Break out?" Maxwell suggested idly. "Cross is only one floor up. We could-"

"Get shot." Winder interrupted. "You don't go AWOL on Blackwatch."

"What can they charge him with? We weren't spreading a virus, we were stopping it."

"Samson'll call that semantics. Just talking to virus-guy should get you shot."

"But we stopped-"

"Just wait. _Blackwatch_ will have stopped Wesker. The _Wisemen Squad_ worked with Mercer."

"Mercer could testify?" Simons said, uncertainly. The scowling virus didn't react.

"He's not a person, he's a problem. He takes Cross's side, we're all convicted." Detweiler said, furious.

"I'm surprised they haven't shot the Captain already."

"Samson tried. Fury overruled him, and its his helicarrier. Fury don't like Samson much." Winder laughed. "Told him if he drew his sidearm, he'd not need a helicopter for the return trip to the ground. But SHIELD aren't in the CoC. Fury can't stall Samson forever, so unless someone's got some good contacts they're holding out..." He let his words trail off. The silence was uncomfortable, and Simons racked the side on his rifle with sudden force. Unless Winder produced something to fix this, there was going to be a mutiny. Hell, he'd lead it.

"I know where she is." The virus had stopped dead in the middle of the room.

"What?" Mercer was fumbling, his hand blurring into tendrils that extruded the broken remains of a cell phone.

"Fuck. Got a phone I can use?"

"What for?"

"Calling in a marker. If we can find her, she' ll step on Sampson." The Blackwatch troops shifted uneasily, weapons surreptiously easing to readiness.

"Who is her? Detweiler asked. Mercer paused, eyes narrowing under the hood.

"You don't need to know," he said, holding out a hand. "Phone?" Subtly Detweiler eased the safety off his rifle.

"Last time you went and freed a _her_ it was Elizabeth Greene." The guns wouldn't stop Mercer he knew, but there was a chance one of them could sound the alarm for containment. The virus stepped back, spreading its hands in frustration.

"She...is a high level official Wesker is holding." He picked the words with care. "The rest is above your paygrade.

"But not yours?"

"I ate someone." That was most likely true. It didn't win him points with Detweiler.

"Who are you calling?"

"Also classified." Detweiler refused to break eye contact with Mercer, not sure just how far he could be trusted. Winder reached into a pouch and tossed a cellphone to Mercer without taking his eyes off the virus.

"Its a burner. Keep it." Huddling over the phone, hiding the buttons, the virus dialled quickly. The call was answered almost immediately, and Mercer didn't bother with greetings.

"Kyle? I've found her." They couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but Mercer turned away as if he could have privacy in a room full of Blackwatch soldiers.

"Very sure." There was a pause as Blacklight rippled and Wesker's voice answered 'How do you think?' before the shapeshifter reverted.

"In one of their bases, containment, bottom level." Another pause. "They flooded the other levels with virus and sealed the base. Two hundred miles from us, one mile from Forrestsburg. If containment cracks -" Mercer stopped, immune to the images of Hope Idaho and Raccoon City he'd evoked in his Blackwatch audience. "Twelve months. Three for food and water remaining. Want her to die there once the supplies run out."

"We're closer. I'm here with a Blackwatch squad. Their Captain's under guard." He grinned at something the other person said. "Not shooting me on sight. Detweiler?" He held the phone out. Reluctantly, grateful he still had his gloves and mask on, the soldier took it.

"You their L.T.?" The voice was used to command, and casual with it.

"Yes."

"Good. Get them prepped for a fast departure. You're taking Blacklight. Treat him as a Subject Matter Expert, he knows what you're facing. Take heavy weapons. I'll clear this."

"Who am I speaking to?"

"F.B.I." The answer was reflexive, utterly natural, but there was something, a slight pause, that raised his hackles.

"Military personnel do not take orders from civilians unless you're the President."

"Then consider this a heads' up on the order you'll get in five." The phone went dead.

"F.B.I? That's your play?" Detweiler snapped at Mercer, disappointed. He hit redial, ready to give the agent a peace of his mind. Nothing happened. He held the phone up. The number had wiped itself. There was no record of the call. "The hell?"

"Over your clearance," Mercer said, far too knowingly. The men were stirring, on edge.

"Spit it out, Hill."

"Sir, do we have any orders saying we have to stay here?" The Private asked. Detweiler knew he was thinking the same thing as the rest. Mercer seemed confident that whatever he had done would save Cross, and while Detweiler barely tolerated the virus, Cross trusted it and Mercer seemed to reciprocate.

"We're confined to barracks," he said, and wondered if the helicarrier counted as barracks.

"Yes, but we also have standing orders to keep eyes on the virus at all times." Simons pressed. Mercer shrugged, walked to the door and walked out. There was a surprised shout from a guard outside. 'Hey, you aren't supposed to-' drowned out by the sounds of the Blackwatch squad grabbing their gear.

"Virus on the move. We are in pursuit," Winder radioed in, piously, wondering where his life had gone so wrong he was trusting a virus and a voice on the phone. "Let's move."

###

In the briefing room above, Fury looked between Samson and Cross. The Captain, seated and under guard, was absolutely impassive while Samson railed at him. Fury's radio buzzed.

"Sir, I have an urgent message from the Shield Security Council. Top priority." Samson stepped back, glowering at Cross.

"Fury, if you want to deal with civilian matters and leave the military to me, you're welcome," Samson said, with a nod. Fury glowered. Taking the message in private would obviously result in the handcuffed Captain being 'shot while trying to escape'.

"Relay it," he ordered bluntly.

"They state that the Blackwatch squad we have detained are on secondment for a top secret mission, effective immediately. We need to give them every co-operation. Departure expected in fifteen minutes. Details to follow." Samson looked as though someone had shot him. Cross's face was impassive. If the Captain had known anything about this, Fury couldn't tell, but he doubted it.

"Get them to the transport deck. Notify Supplies."

"Have done, sir." There was a pause. "They say they need their officer, sir."

"Get those goddamn handcuffs off," he ordered, with no little satisfaction. As one of the SHIELD guards leapt to obey, Samson put his hand on his sidearm.

"That traitor stays here, Fury."

"I'm following orders, General."

"Civilian groups like SHIELD do not give orders to the US military." Samson said, grating on the words civilian. Fury stepped in close. He was an inch taller than the General.

"On my motherfucking carrier, you following my motherfucking rules." The stare down lasted only a moment, but Fury didn't break gaze with Samson as he spoke to the bridge officer. "Who authorised the mission?"

"Sir, those orders have Presidential authorisation." The voice spoke diffidently. Fury scowled. Someone had been pulling strings, but if it pissed off Samson he wasn't going to complain. Samson bridled.

"I don't believe it. That virus is pulling something."

"Under your guard on my helicarrier?" Fury was quite certain Mercer wasn't. He hit the intercom as it buzzed again.

"Sir, I have a direct communication incoming from the Joint Chiefs. Should I put them through?" Fury made very sure Samson could see the smile spreading across his face. His words were surprisingly mild, but he was savouring them.

"Do so." The screen crackled to life, a flickering face showing on the holographic display.

"Sir." Captain Cross and General Samson snapped to attention, saluting. The salute was returned, but the next orders weren't to them.

"Director Fury, you currently have a Blackwatch squad and the Blacklight entity on your helicarrier. Confirmed?"

"Yes, General."

"These have been seconded for a top-clearance mission vital to National Security. Please give them every co-operation. We expect them to depart in ten minutes."

"Depart for where?"

"That's need to know. The U.S. military would be grateful if SHIELD could provide equipment and aid. Don't dispatch SHIELD personal with them." General Samson stood up, outraged, but kept his tone moderated.

"Sir, with all due respect, " he interrupted. "Captain Cross is under arrest facing tribunal for insubrdination and treason." Cross said nothing, but his shoulders stiffened. Fury glared at Samson.

"Your bjection is noted, General Samson." As the General stood to attention, the next order was not to him. "Captain Cross, this is a direct order. Get the hell out of that chair and join your men. Now. Transport leaves in ten. Be on it."

"Sir, yes sir!" The Captain stood up, turning to the door, and Fury gestured to one of the SHIELD agents.

"Get the man there."

"Sir, yes sir!" The door was still closing behind them when Cross broke into a run.

"General, I have reason to suspect Captain Cross was co-operating with Mercer." Samson protested. His protest was ignored.

"General Samson, you will extend all assistance with this mission. Captain Cross has full clearance. Consider Blacklight an attached specialist. "

"That monster?"

"For this mission, that monster outranks you, General. If that's a problem, Cross can take general command." Sampson wavered, pride stung. He hated Cross, but saw the abyss in front of him if he was removed for disobeying orders.

"Private, relay the Captain's change of status to the bay."

###

In the hanger bay of the helicarrier, Cross took the situation in at a glance- the transport helicopter being prepped, munitions loaded by busy SHIELD personnel and Blackwatch checking weapons as something ten feet tall with a face like a peeled skull faced them. He reached for his gun, found the empty holster.

"Add LAW rockets to the load," Detweiler called, as the figure dissolved with a blur of red and black tentacles, reforming into a squat, four-legged, shape close to the ground. Mercer's voice came out of it.

"Lickers. Fast. Small arms fire works. Use a lot of it."

"Detweiler, report." Cross's voice carried, and the squad jumped to attention. "As you were. Report, Lieutenant."

"Chopper ready to depart in five. Acquiring a pilot, Sir. Briefing underway on opposition." Cross raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mercer as the virus resumed its normal form and starting hauling crates casually into the cargo bay. If they were hunting what Mercer had just demonstrated -

"Take Javelins. Load for a red zone." He ordered.

"Am doing, sir."

"Winder, get us a pilot."

"Sir, have done sir." Cross tried not to laugh as he spotted the pilot who'd flown Samson here checking out the cockpit. It looked like the General would be relying on Fury's good graces to get home, and those were in short supply. He checked the preparations with one practiced eye, while he pulled on his own weapons. His men were experienced enough to be relied on, but he hated not having time to check himself. They all knew what you didn't have in the field was what could kill you. Why the hell was Mercer of all people loading virus detectors? The virus could sling the damn crates around faster than the pickups, but why was it being so goddamn helpful? He was starting to have a bad feeling about the mission, and he didn't even know what it was yet.

Recognising Mercer breaking multiple Secrets Acts for the briefing was not reassuring. Goddamnit, was he being let out just to get his whole squad slaughtered in the hellhole crater left of Raccoon City?

Winder's newly-acquired pilot was checking the helicopter. Cross nearly laughed as Mercer finished loading crates and headed for the pilot's seat, correcting himself sullenly as the pilot got there first. Sometimes the inhuman thing was very easy to read.

"Supplies loaded?"

"Sir, yes sir." Detweiler handed him the manifest.

"No Bloodtox?"

"Mercer says the only thing it'll hit down there is on our side, sir." The rest of the manifest seemed sufficient for two days in a hot zone. Food and water included, spare suits, ammo and fallback weapons. Good. The only person who knew the details of the mission was Mercer, half in the cockpit as he spoke to the pilot. Shit, Cross hated going in blind.

"Ready to depart?"

"Sir, yes sir." With practiced ease the squad climbed in, piling onto one of the benches inside the chopper. Mercer swung in after them, sliding easily onto the other bench. Cross took the same seat. Damned if he was going to be crowded if it was a long trip. The helicopter lifted away, to the southeast. Cross took a moment to admire the sight of the helicarrier retreating behind them. Damn that was an impressive machine.

"Mercer, what's the mission?" Cross asked, once the noise of the transport had settled to the steady thrum of engines and his hearing had adjusted.

"Umbrella base near Forestsburg." Winder swore, cutting across the virus' answer. Cross privately agreed, but this wasn't the time for chat. Umbrella bases near civilian populations were universally trouble.

"Tactical details?" Cross ordered.

Mercer flipped the manifest over, pulled out a pen, and began to sketch. Under his pen a professional level plan emerged: seven levels, entries at the top, but no sealed ways out. Another skill he'd got from some unlucky civilian caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Umbrella troops and security? What's our target?" Cross asked, annoyed he'd missed Mercer's briefing.

"Abandoned. Umbrella viruses live throughout. Hostage trapped on the lowest level." Cross looked at the plans as Mercer changed pens. Red markings began to indicate automated security points and sealed doors.

"We can't fight through that." Blackwatch could, he knew, but the virus would get out. Nothing was worth that, not near a town.

"I can." The virused bastard actually sounded smug. "You hold the line at the door. Kill anything that gets passed me."

"So kill any virus that gets out?" Winder smirked at Mercer, and the virus glared back.

"Where's the access point?" Cross cut in before the banter could turn into an argument. "The main door is a dead loss. Large enough for their nasties to get out, and we don't have the men for a full perimeter."

"Goods door here." Mercer's finger stabbed down. Cross looked and nodded. The entry itself was large enough for three men at best, with a broken-up road nearby for the helicopter to land on. At the bottom of a gully, anything that came out of that entrance would be running uphill.

"A killing funnel," he said, in approval. Mercer's answering grin was distinctly predatory.

"Shoot anything that comes out that door," it said.

"Including you?" Winder sniped again. There was a chuckle, but Mercer wasn't laughing.

"I'll live. They won't."

"Understood. Call ahead or get shot," Cross said bluntly, not bothering to ask about the hostage. They were Mercer's problem. The virus nodded.

"Better than it getting out." It was strange that the virus had a better grip of why the plague had to be contained than some of his colleagues. Cross looked up the tactical map of the area, examining Forestsburg. A sprawling suburban town, almost impossible to lock down and only a mile from the base. If the town got infected, house to house clearance would be impractical. They would have to level the city, and even then a perimeter around the urban sprawl wouldn't be possible. An outbreak wasn't a risk, it was a certainty.

"Estimated casualties if we fail?" he said, knowing the city would be a total loss. The laughter stopped.

"Best case? Fifty thousand," Mercer replied bleakly, "if they manage to contain it." With the T-virus and whatever the hell else Umbrella had in there, Cross knew that was an unlikely 'if'. If they failed, well, Cross privately vowed, they wouldn't. Blackwatch held the line.

###

They landed on the broken road by the door. Immediately the Blackwatch squad piled out, fanning to cover the edges of the gully and establish a perimeter. Nothing was flushed out by the initial rush, but Cross wasn't letting his guard down. It was quiet, even the animals hushed by the disruption of the helicopter.

"Perimeter secured sir." Detweiler reported.

"Good. Simons, Winder, Maxwell, you're on watch here. The rest of you, take station. Firing positions on the door." They needed no further telling, the three lookouts finding positions where they could see anything approaching from outside the perimeter, while the others found cover and set up firing points to cover the rusted steel door.

Mercer slid down into the gully, and Cross followed him more slowly. The door was too set in its frame to move, sealed in by dirt and rust. Cross scowled. That had to have been done deliberately, if the base had only been closed for a few months, but it had backfired. The door itself had begun to corrode. How close were they to an outbreak?

"Verheyde, C4. We'll blow it," he ordered. Mercer ignored him, hooked his fingers under the massive steel panel and lifted. The foot-thick door came easily out of its rails. That was a two-ton dead weight, Cross thought, remembering the virus thing throwing tanks. Mercer set the heavy panel down, dashed round it, and lifted the solid door back into its place with a thud.

Cross looked at the door, sealed as far as he could tell, and started back to join the squad. "Day, Durrant, check the main door is sealed. Scout but don't engage. Hill, check the thermite supplies. I want to be able to weld that thing shut." The men he'd detailed scurried off to their duties as he hunkered down, taking aim at the goods door. Tense silence fell.


	2. The Rescue

**Chapter 2**

The base was dark, emergency power only leaving the few lights in amber. Mercer shifted his vision to thermal, painting the world in blacks and reds, orange overlaying the ineffective strip lights in the floor with faint red to shift their colour to pallid yellow. His surface prickled, itched, as viral particles settled from the air and were absorbed. Blacklight stirred, consuming them hungrily and evolving.

There had been nothing of significance in the first three floors. Zombies, in various states of decay and animation, roamed, hid, ambushed and universally died. He'd killed them quickly, consuming some to breakdown the odd mix of RNA and DNA that gave them their semblance of life. The gateway to the fourth flour was blocked, double containment, separate life support, and as Wesker's memories told him, behind that door the real challenge would begin.

The Uroborous, nascent in their containment solutions, had to be taken out before he reached her. If not, and they managed to infect her, merge with her, well, the chorus of scientists disagreed on details, but they all thought it would be bad.

Ripping the door down would allow everything in there out, and Cross would get whiny if he drowned them in zombies. The air vent, if his memories were right, should let him out in the room where the samples were stored. There were three, in solution in glass containers, on benches just beyond the door. A primary target, as long as no zombies had broken the seals.

The containment measures had cut the vents off, inch thick steel plates dropping just inside the vents. Mercer tore through them off easily and saw the steel rotating blades, enough to stop an animal or a tiny intruder. He grinned, pushed his armoured arm into the way and watched them splinter on his armour.

Compacting his mass he writhed through the vent, through a space far too small for a human, and pushed out the blanking plate at the far end. Dropping to the floor in the absolute darkness beyond, pulling his biomass back towards a human shape, his eyes and thermal vision regenerated just in time to see the massive fist incoming.

###

Cross looked up as the trees began to shake. The sounds of a helicopter were quite clear. Over the roar he signalled for the lookouts to target it. They weren't expecting backup, and if Umbrella dropped something in -

The sleek black helicopter swung round, making the US army insignia on its side visible, and simply hovered.

"Captain Cross, reinforcements dispatched by Washington. Permission to land?" The voice crackled over his radio. They were asking. That was a good sign. Using his squad's channel wasn't, and babysitting a bunch of Marines in a hot zone was a distraction he didn't need. Still, when they got themselves killed, it was extra guns for his troops. Hostiles should just have started firing, or dropped one of their abominations on them by now.

"Detweiler, maintain the perimeter, Maxwell, guide them in. No sudden moves."

"Acknowledged." The pilot's response cut Maxwell's off. Cross moved back from his firing position and walked towards the shattered tarmac. The large transport helicopter was too large for the broken road, touching down on the grass by the Blackwatch aircraft. Troops began to pile out, immediately seeking cover positions. Experienced men then, who might actually be some use. A man in a suit jumped out behind them, looked round and walked unerringly towards Cross, keeping cover between himself and the gully.

"Special Agent Kyle Madigan, forces liaison. We're here as your backup. Two more transports incoming. Where do you need us?" The badge he was holding looked official. Putting aside the oddity of an F.B.I agent commanding military personnel, Cross nodded. The new troops' gear was heavy combat, but not bio-warfare compatible. It didn't matter. He couldn't be fussy, and if it came to it he'd shoot them himself.

"Pull your men back. Form an external perimeter around the site. Nothing gets out, nothing gets in."

"Understood." Madigan nodded to one of the troops, and they immediately began to move, taking position as ordered. Cross moved back to the perimeter, hunkering down by Detweiler.

"You trust them, sir?"

"Until our operatives come out with the hostage, I'll take what I can get." Cross said. The Blacklight position was defensible from both sides, and they wouldn't have to hold out long. If the reinforcements were from Umbrella, they hadn't brought anything capable of dealing with a creature that threw tanks across Manhattan.

###

The thing's hammerblow knocked Mercer back. He rolled with it, claws changing to a blade that should have disembowelled it as he swung it across its torso. The giant roared, dodged, and the edge merely scored through its armour. Mercer growled in frustration and charged. The creature spread its arms to grapple, and fists that crushed concrete closed only on writhing tendrils as Mercer's body split apart. Feeder tentacles dug in, the T-virus-ridden flesh dissolving, and the giant struggled blindly. Tearing at the black mass that had been its chest with arms that were rapidly liquefying, it threw itself into the walls, cracking the concrete, tearing through desks and computers like paper as the tentacles extended into its legs and reduced it to a thrashing formless blob on the floor. It felt like something half rotten, already decayed, and converted all too smoothly.

As Mercer began to compact his new biomass, to take his own shape back, he felt something moving in the new mass, infected that as well. A second mind? A parasitic second mind? What the hell had Umbrella been doing down here? It was as easily broken down and consumed as the rest, offering a vague way to enhance neural cells. It was of little interest to him. He broke it down for biomass, reached for the human brain within his new memories-

 _\- wife, woman's face, smiling, sunlight, screams, smothered, steel chains, flesh changing, growing, trapped-_

-and reeled. These giants were still conscious, a human mind trapped and screaming. Memories he now shared. He wished fervently he had made Wesker suffer more.

Pulling his mass back into his normal form, he approached the containers. The Uroborous things were still in liquid solution, deceptively tiny inside the glass tubes. Injected, or airborne, it would be a nightmare. Blacklight was more quickly fatal, but he was designed to infect DNA, not RNA. He was a proficient virophage, he could absorb it, but that would delay him, and if it fought he might not win. Memories surfaced as he dug through stolen scientists' memories for a solution. Acid washes were impractical, so instead he lifted the glass samples case, took it back to the break room, and took the time to thoroughly microwave each one. Then he cracked the vials and poured bleach and ammonia into each. The chloramine mix irritated his biomass, sending ripples of agitated tendrils down his arms, but what was left of Uruborous squirmed and died.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he enveloped the mess of chemicals and dead virus, absorbing it into his hand. Ignoring the chlorine burning his biomass away, he broke the fragments of the dead virus down in a crude version of a vaccine, tearing the secrets from the dead virus. Uruborous had a few useful qualities, better regeneration and a trick for absorbing dead flesh more efficiently that he'd have to try.

Hearing shuffling ahead in the dark, he reformed his burning hand into a whip and lashed out, impaling the zombie and reeling it in. Just the thing to get the sting of chlorine out of his biomass.

###

"Main door sealed, sir." Simons reported as he and Durrant slid through the undergrowth the report to Cross. "Live virus was detected, area was near saturation levels. Area was made safe. Suggest a post-op burn." Durrant nodded his agreement.

"Slashed, burned, and sealed with copper thermite. Won't hold though sir. Doors are rusted."

"How long's it good for?"

"Two weeks, best guess."

"Understood." Cross silently cursed Umbrella with every epithet he knew. Those doors should have been galvanised, negative pressure reinforced, titanium or ceramic, not something that rusted after a few months. He grimaced, acutely aware of the presence of strange guns at their back. "Levels on your gear?"

"Made it safe, sir. Bleach spray until it was at non-detectable levels." Cross nodded. Blackwatch's gear was sealed, but the Marines wasn't. Having his troops spread the virus to them would just be embarrassing, and he wasn't in the business of giving Umbrella samples.

"Check their perimeter, correct weaknesses, and report."

"Sir, yes sir," They were smart enough to read between the lines to his real instructions: get a sit-rep and tactical layout in case their new 'friendlies' weren't. Once the pair had moved off he quietly vented his own frustration.

"Cheap grade steel. What the hell were they thinking?"

"Probably that after a few months, it wouldn't matter...Captain," Winder added, belatedly realising Cross was listening. "They'd have their guys out and if there's an outbreak, Blackwatch comes in and handles it."

"Clearing up any trace they were here along the way." Cross nodded, peering upwards as he heard aircraft approaching. Another transport, flanked by an Apache escort. Someone was putting some serious boots on the ground. He wished he knew who.

###

Dropping down the elevator shaft, the roof of the lift dented under the impact. The inspection hatch was broken beyond use, but two swift claw strikes ripped the metal open. He dropped into the cabin and forced the door. This had taken too long already.

The lights were on. Air circulated, free of the virus particles he had grown used to on the higher levels. Thermal vision was of little use here, and he switched back to normal. No zombies, no blood, no gore, No carpet. No decayed wall notices. He paused, detecting the faint smell of burning. A layer of grey ash coated the floor.

He crouched, advancing slowly, expecting an ambush but suspecting anything that could harm him was already dead. Thermal vision - a flash of human orange ahead, darting back out of sight.

"Hey?" There was no answer, but he knew where she was, or where answers were. Fuck it, he could kill anything that came for him. He jumped, landed by the end of the passageway and the door to heavy containment.

Reaching through stolen memories, he dug the right keycard from the bundle he'd accumulated and swiped it. The door grated, briefly stuck, then slid open. Beyond on the floor, a pile of grey ash lay undisturbed, the floor scorched round it. The person's shape was quite clear, fingers reaching for the door, the metal of the frame warped where it had gripped with burning fingers. Mercer grinned. He knew he was getting close.

"Aya?" he called, not worried about being attacked. The only thing here he couldn't kill was someone he'd call close to a friend.

The cells at the back were brightly lit, floor to ceiling glass designed to ensure the occupants were visible, a small drain at the back and a recessed slot for water and pills the only concession to human decency. Black and red rippled down his arms in agitation, too many memories of Gentek for comfort. Two of the cells were empty, but in the last a woman stood, one hand against the glass, staring at him. Her mouth moved, but no sound came through the thick glass.

"Back," he said, exaggerating the word as he raised the blade. She stepped away from the glass, shielding her face as he sliced the plexi-glass effortlessly. It peeled into cubes and fell away. The woman stepped out, brushing cubes from her shoulders.

"Aya, It's me."

"Mercer?" she said, puzzled, and then: "I'm not Aya, I'm Eve. My sister died." That was a shock, but now was no time for condolences, and she obviously agreed. "You have an extraction plan?"

"Top floor goods entrance." Mercer scowled. Had Kyle been playing him? It didn't matter, he guessed. Eve should be a high enough rank to get Cross out of trouble. If this really was Eve and not some Umbrella ploy, because she had grown up far too quickly since he saw her last.

"But the containment?" she protested, still sounding like the child he remembered.

"Blackwatch perimeter. Nothing's getting out."

"But the people in here?" He gritted his teeth. She was a hell of a lot softer than Aya, that was for damn sure.

"Dead. Walking corpses." Alex scowled. A fighting retreat through zombies with Aya was a known quantity. It might even have been fun. With Eve, he had no idea. "Zombies all over the upper levels."

"There are no human survivors?" Her voice sounded regretful, but not scared. Not what he'd expected from someone who looked like a seven-year-old last time he'd seen her.

"No." He fought down annoyance at her repetition.

"And the Uroborous samples?"

"Microwaved." She nodded, her eyes fluorescing as the blue of the iris was flooded with green, the whites lost as the colour expanded edge to edge.

"Then I can stop holding back. Stay close."

###

The zombies crowding the level four entrance burst into flames. Mercer watched, then shrugged as they walked through the upper levels. It was a new trick, but he'd seen Aya do something similar. It was Eve's distracted air that was inhumanly disturbing, even to him. Even Elizabeth Greene had shown emotions while she was tearing the city down. Once the fires started, Eve, or Aya, as she'd said he should call her, had seemed like a different person, gently oblivious to the deaths her presence was bringing.

"I will need to get the temperature higher to burn the virus out of the air," she said, her attention elsewhere. She turned her head to a blank wall and he heard something scrabbling beyond it frantically. Then it fell silent.

"Don't burn me." His claws twitched at his side, tempted to impale.

"I couldn't if I wanted. They have DNA. You don't. Aya told me." Mercer thought back, into memories that were for once entirely his own.

"Anything with mitochondrial DNA?"

"Yes," she said, eerily. "Wesker thought he was very clever, using male scientists. If I can affect rats, I can affect males." There was a contemptuous edge to the voice that belied the usually childlike attitude. "So strange. I can't sense you."

"And Uruborous was a threat?"

"In its base form, there is no DNA, just RNA." She looked at him, smiled too knowingly. "If it had taken a host, then it would have become mine. And died." The zombie crawling towards them rolled over, burned beyond animation. Mercer stepped over it. Eve followed, more delicate. "Would you like me to leave you some?" she offered distantly.

"I already ate." His own biomass was untouched, but the heat radiating from hers was enticing. Instincts said to consume it, to evolve, but experience reminded him that his last attempt to consume one of the Brea sisters had not ended well. She tilted her head, looking up towards the ceiling.

"There are humans outside the door."

"Blackwatch's perimeter."

"Some of the larger creatures are fleeing upwards. I cannot burn them without catching the soldiers in my range," she said, still inhumanly calm. An echoing clang rang through the base. Mercer cursed, picked her up, and began to run.

###

The dull thud reverberated through the clearing. Cross's finger tensed on the trigger, eyes locked on the door. Zeus could hit that hard, but he wouldn't need to.

"Incoming!" He heard Winder shout. A second blow, and the door jumped in its frame. Against his better judgement, he found himself wishing for Mercer's return. The frame of the door bent, juddered and the huge steel door fell forward, crashing into the undergrowth. Framed in the doorway, the thing filled it from side-to-side, stooping its huge head. He opened fire immediately. The thing, the thing that Mercer had shifted into in the cargo bay, launched forward into the crossfire, barely slowed as the Javelins impacted. It covered half the gully in a single charge as Blackwatch poured fire into it.

There was a deafening roar and a missile streaked overhead, thundering into the thing's chest. Cross threw himself down as the back-blast flooded across him, burning hot even inside his armour. The Tyrant was knocked back, ablaze but not down, catching itself on the door with a clawed hand and recovering impossibly quickly, snapping off part of the door frame and throwing it at the hovering aircraft. The Apache evaded, driven back as it circled, trying to get an angle to fire into the bunker without getting into range. Blackwatch resumed their covering fire, Winder's Javelin striking the thing as it lumbered forward, ready to charge.

An angled black blade bit into the burning Tyrant's side, and it roared, turning behind it but hampered by the smaller doorway. A kick sent it staggering aside and a woman in a blue uniform rolled through the gap and ran into the gully. Cross jerked his gun up just in time to not shoot her, remembered the Apache too late. Mercer kicked the Tyrant down, put a foot on the Tyrant's back, yanking his blade free as he ran, caught up with her and jumped them both clear. The fire and thunder of the missile hit. The bunker entrance was engulfed in flames. Cross' troops ducked back into cover as the blast of heat washed over them, chunks of concrete from the destroyed entrance raining down.

He raised his head cautiously to see a figure in the fire, aimed a gun on reflex. It was too small to be the Tyrant. Mercer had gone back, was standing in the ruins as if the fire did not bother him, standing on the door and sweeping a blade down to cut into something that was still moving. The woman turned, raised a hand imperiously, and the thing blazed brighter and fell still. Mercer turned away, lifted the remains of the steel door as if it weighed nothing and settled it back in place to block the entrance as best he could. He paused as he released it, turned to face Cross and jumped the distance in one easy movement.

"Any more?" he asked.

"That was the last," the woman replied, focusing on thin air. An instant later Madigan had jumped the make-shift barricade and was holding her tight.

"E- Aya! You're OK?"

"Yes?" she said uncertainly, and then shook herself and replied more confidently. "I mean, yes I am."

"Seal the doorway." Cross ordered automatically, part of his training insisting he should have the two civilians shot as infection vectors. Detweiler was already scanning the pair with a viral detector, and Cross kept his finger on the trigger in case. Their new backup had come equipped, and a squad of troops had rushed into the gully. Welding torches were hastily applied to the door, sealing the metal into place.

"Viral levels safe," Detweiler reported.

"Details?"

"T-virus below contagious levels, and Blacklight residue, non-infectious." Cross acknowledged the report, standing up from his firing position and turning to Madigan. His finger was still on the trigger, but he wasn't worried. The new arrivals had an Apache. Cross had Mercer.

"We're calling in Blackwatch to sterilise the place," he informed them. The woman nodded.

"Do so. The town is out of range and uninfected. Quarantine and lock-down for two weeks after the base is destroyed should suffice."

"And exactly who is giving the quarantine orders?" Cross asked. The woman looked at Madigan, raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"The Joint Chiefs, in about ten minutes." There was an unshakeable confidence in the man that would have been arrogance if Cross didn't suspect he could back it up. Madigan didn't say more, strolling all too casually towards the virus.

Mercer was standing silent against the chopper, surveying the controls with naked covetousness as the pilot looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Well, that call was unexpected. I guess we finally have something you want?"

"I need a favour." Mercer didn't look happy at the admission.

"Get Kherber off your back?"

"Get Kherber off Cross's. I don't need to lose an ally." Mercer gravelled. "And look after Dana."

"We're not really in a position-" the virus bridled, as Madigan continued smoothly "-to say no."

"We wouldn't anyway," the woman said, and what was she, Cross wondered, some politician's relative? Another bio-weapon like Mercer? His instincts said she'd caused the Tyrant's immolation, and they rarely let him down. "We still want you onboard. Could you work with us?"

A beeper went off in Madigan's pocket. He checked his phone and shook his head.

"We don't have time to discuss the details now."

"When's the next outbreak due?" the woman - Aya, if he had heard Madigan correctly - asked, tensing. Cross's attention caught the word 'outbreak'. If this was an outbreak, why the hell didn't Blackwatch know about it?

"Nine hours, thirty-eight minutes," Madigan replied. "West Coast. Lykanstrata Theatre." The blonde nodded.

"You clear up here," she ordered. "We'd better move. Blacklight, you're with me." Cross expected Mercer to argue. No one ordered the virus around. The best Cross could do was point him in a direction and hope, but all Mercer did was turn his head curiously. "Think Empire State only worse." To Cross's surprise, the virus nodded and walked round to the side of the helicopter.

"If you're taking Mercer, better take the Blackwatch troops onsite here. Kherber's being an ass." Madigan didn't seem to have a good opinion of the General. Cross agreed with him, and if there was an outbreak Blackwatch didn't know about, he wanted to be on top of it. The woman nodded.

"Fine. Captain Saddler, MIST holds the perimeter here until we get back. Cross, if you have a Blackwatch squad you trust, call them in to burn out this mess. You're with us," she ordered.

"Sir, yes, Sir." The officer with the new arrivals snapped straight to attention. Cross noted both the lack of ID, and the name MIST down for later reference.

"Kyle?" she continued.

"I'll co-ordinate here. Captain Cross, use my name as the point of contact." It was well-practiced, Cross saw, every one of them knowing what was expected. What it wasn't was F.B.I. These were combat troops taking orders from a civilian. What his team had got into was, unusually for Blackwatch, way over his head.

"With all due respect, ma'am," he said, ramrod straight, "we still don't know who's giving the orders."

"That's me." Mercer sounded far too smug.

"Joint Chiefs said so, sir," Detweiler confirmed, cringing slightly as he saw the look on Cross's face. Mercer looked back at him, and Cross could tell the virused bastard was loving every minute of it.

"Get in the fucking chopper."


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

**Chapter 3**

The Lykanstrata Theatre was cordoned off when they arrived, but the crowds pressed against the barrier were restive and unhappy. Soldiers were escorting struggling teenagers out of the building. The woman, Agent Brea, as Cross had been told by a smirking virus, walked straight towards the cordon and the busy-looking officer giving orders.

"Captain Oakes? Report." He took one look and came straight to attention, poorly disguising the relief on his face.

"Part of the barrier collapsed. Estimate fifty civilians still inside. The band are inciting the rest to storm the barriers and join them."

"Dammit, didn't they hear about the bomb threat?"

"They're ignoring it, ma'am." He looked at Cross, then back at Brea. "Reinforcements?"

"Blackwatch," she replied.

"With all due respect, sir, we're trying to avoid civilian casualties." Cross bridled silently at the comment, but he couldn't say it wasn't unearned. It was curious that she'd name Blackwatch, but more that a rank and file soldier knew the name and reputation of a top secret unit. He wanted some answers. Worse, he knew Mercer already had them and wasn't saying.

"They're here because they've worked with our new ally before." She gestured at Mercer. Oakes' expression was unreadable.

"Then get to the inner cordon. Keep your ally safe-" That was when the screaming started. The teens struggling with the troops were suddenly fighting to get out, to get away from something inside the building. The troops went immediately from forcing them out, to trying to turn the panicked flight into an ordered evacuation as the people clawed at each other in their haste to escape.

Brea pushed through the cordon, the troops clearing a way for her, but the force of the crowd began to push her back. Mercer took two steps and jumped, landing on the markee board above the entrance. One hand hooked over the edge and he dropped out of sight, parkouring across the wall and into the entrance, over the heads of the crowds. Cross swore, jumping the barricade and pushing in front of Agent Brea as she fought forward through the press of bodies. He began to force a path for her.

"Get her to the building!" Oakes bellowed over the pandemonium. Cross yelled an acknowledgement as his men formed up, a linked escort pushing their way through the crowd. He glanced for Captain Oakes, saw the man up on the barricade co-ordinating the evacuation. Good. Someone had to.

A teenager blundered into him, trapped between Cross and the crowd behind, lost his footing and fell. Cross lifted his leg, tried to step over the boy, felt something break under his foot as the throng pushed him back. He kept moving, smacked another to the side with his rifle-butt to get them out of the way. He had orders, to get Brea to the theatre. Whatever the enemy was, it was in there and must not get out. The line was the door. Blackwatch held the line. That was all that mattered.

He heard Winder curse to his left, pushing a group aside by main force. Two hands, linked, crossed his chest like a barrier. When the pair would not move to one side or the other, pressed into him by the crowd, he forced the hands apart, saw them lose their grip as fingers broke, and pushed forward through the gap. The door lay just ahead, the crowd frenzied and clawing at each other in their haste to escape.

Then he saw what lay through the entrance, and only training kept him moving forward. From blue-grey clouds hovering below the raised ceiling, scaled green tentacles reached, roving over the crowd. With voracious speed they struck, snatching up victims and pulling them back into the clouds, portals, he guessed. Then a shower of gore and viscera shot forth, sprayed the crowd, joined the red mess that coated the floor and the screams redoubled as the tentacle returned for more prey. This was wrong, in a way that even Hope, Idaho had not been, but he narrowed his focus. Target ahead. It needed to die.

A tentacle as thick as a Redlight Hydra snatched up a brown-haired girl from the stragglers still struggling to get out of the door. He shouldered his rifle, fired a three-round burst into the thick scales. It did nothing, hell, he hadn't expected it to, but he'd shot Zeus with more effect. As it pulled her back, her ribs smashed in its crushing grasp, he shifted his aim and shot her through the head. She slumped just as her body was pulled through the portal. Another tentacle swept out, aiming for a soldier, and a black blade lashed out from the ceiling, carving a little off it before it skidded and struck sparks across the scales. What good were his weapons, if Mercer couldn't fucking damage it? Didnt matter. This was the line. He would hold it here. The MIST troops were evacuating the last of the civilians, throwing them bodily towards the entrance and others firing into it -

\- there! Moving too fast to be human, a twisted pale shape darted into the crowd, tearing and ripping with teeth that did not belong in its oddly feline face. He aimed, held his fire. There were too many civilians in the way for the bullets to strike it, he'd just be wasting ammo.

"Forget the creature. Shoot the NMCs, the second you get a shot," Brea ordered, crouching beside him. She'd drawn a handgun, aiming and firing at something on the ground, and he saw one of the pale shapes go down as its ankle smashed.

"Got it." He looked for somewhere to get height above the crowd, dismissed the idea as a tentacle smashed the soundbooth above him. Mercer could have the roof. God knows the virus would be right at home among the tentacles.

"Shoot the NMCs - the pale things. Evacuate the civvies," he ordered over the radio, knowing his men would follow.

"Hold the line here," Agent Brea ordered - and who exactly was this woman anyway? - and jumped the row of seats in front of him. Was she really trying to get closer to it? She fired again, and immediately the tentacles' wild flailing stopped. They struck with deadly purpose, straight towards her as she rolled into cover further down the rows. A single guiding intelligence controlled each movement, Cross saw, but it had less grasp of tactics than Elizabeth Green. He hoped it had less raw power, picking off another NMC as it closed on Brea.

The smaller creatures seemed to be gathering from around the hall, ignoring the tentacles that smashed them as casually as the building. The last of the civilians were nearly clear, the crowd thin enough to snipe the creatures among them. As he shot a third, Brea diving behind an aisle stand, the tactical part of his mind noted that the NMCs had been hampering the evacuation. Now they were trying to block the doors, attacking from behind the ranks to force troops into the killing ground of the portals. Maxwell had ducked into the ticket office, using the counter for height to snipe the creatures as Detweiler secured the way in. He picked off another NMC heading for Brea's cover, hoping their heavy weapons support would get here soon.

Cross saw a flash of white on one of the tentacles, Mercer running the length of it, blade trailing to part the scales, and if the treetrunk-like limb wasn't badly damaged it was still trying to throw him off, twisting on its length to grip him as he dodged, and then inevitably, there was a scream. Brea, struggling, kicking, was lifted from the floor. To Cross' utter shock, the MIST soldier beside him tore off his helmet, standing up in clear view as the agent's head turned, her gaze meeting the soldier's and then the stands exploded and he was thrown back as consciousness fled.

###

"Aya!" Without thinking she turned her head towards the new voice, broke eye contact with the soldier as the tentacle pulled her towards the portal. Her eyes locked on a different gaze, ice-blue in a shifting mass of tentacles that dropped from the ceiling, obliterating the stands by Blackwatch.

 _...overdive..._

And time stopped for an instant. She staggered, her genetics adapting as the DNA she'd replaced tried to change, to die, to remain something else, and then her new body stood. A writhing mass of black and red was pulled back through the portal, clawed edges grating on the green scales. She was firing even as the last of the biomass vanished. A hand - Mercer's, how? never mind - pushed her clear as the lights above rocked, torn apart as a new tentacle like a tree-trunk speared back through the hole. His hand was burning up as he pulled it back. Mercer reeled, staggered towards the wall.

"Infect," he was muttering, his arm up against the wall, his head leaned against it, hiding his face. "Infect, _consume..._ " The scream that echoed in her mind was nothing human, and abruptly the twisted tentacles went insane. Flailing blindly and untargeted, they slammed into walls, shattered chairs, cracked the walls to show daylight as something pulled itself forward from the clouds. Something dark green and red and black, all mouth and teeth and eyes between the teeth, and red-black tendrils tearing it apart from inside...

"Cover him," she yelled to the nearest troops, running forward, ducking under a flailing tentacle. A red-black tumour bulged from the green scales, exploded from it above her head as a red-black tendril erupted, struck toothily downwards at its still conjoined parent like a snake. A spatter of fluid showered her as she rolled aside, felt her body heat up burning out the infection before it could get a grip. Hurdling a shattered chair back, she slid into the blood-soaked aisle, regaining her balance before her feet could go from under her, and then she was running again. Jump the rafter as it came down, duck as a tentacle smashed the chairs to matchwood, keep a hand up to shield her eyes as the splinters tore her cheek open. It's mouth was gaping, reeking, the eyes between its teeth twisting and popping as diseased flesh rose and twisted. She fired, the automatic utterly ineffective against the thing even if she could hit something vital while running. She didn't need to. It rotated in the nest of tentacles, gaped at her, baring teeth like knives as the eyes between them focused. _Made you look..._

 _...overdive..._

Time was hers, something wrong with the borrowed flesh she moved to as there always was, but a twist of will and she burned it clear to DNA she could use. The extra mass folded, tore, decayed to give it the shape she needed, the shape she would live in. Caught in a body too small, the creature tried to expand, tore itself apart as the mitochondria rejected it utterly. Something lived, and something died.

Eve stood up in the middle of the ruin of something that had once been a nightclub, and something else that should never have been, and drew her second first breath of that day. No time to think. She reached out to the NMCs, paused them with a thought now another will could not fight hers.

"Mercer?" The virus creature was still leaning against the wall, head bowed, red and black tendrils coiling up and down his arms. "Mercer!" The hooded head came up with a growl, and she took a step back as the blue eyes locked on her, ravenous. The NMCs padded up behind her and sat. Her will suppressed the mitochondria, cooled them, told them not to fight. Better them than the troops under that predatory gaze. "Food?" What passed her was barely human, tendrils digging into patchwork flesh and feathers as the once-human things melted and screamed as they were subsumed. It was not pleasant. It was fast.

"Blackwatch, deploy viral scanners. Burn any Blacklight that's not him." And now that was done, she was back to the script she'd said so many times.

"Lieutenant Reeve, casualties to the tent, triage outside. Sergeant Hill, liaise with perimeter. Keep the press out. Sergeant Waddon, structural detail - shore it up, make it safe and start recovery for anyone trapped."

"Director? Where should I detail Captain Oakes?" She stopped at Hill's confused enquiry. Oakes was alive? Hope quickly bubbled and she quashed it. "To me. I want his tactical assessment ASAP." Oakes should have been the first casualty. The lights came down, Oakes was pinned, and she spoke at the funeral, forever and ever, for always, until now.

"Get viral detectors to the triage tent. Let Blackwatch handle matters on disposal of infected matter, they've got the experience." She ignored the mass of tentacles slowly turning back into a human form behind her. The NMCs would have had to be shot anyway. She hoped fourteen would be enough. No sense stopping a twisted NMC only to unleash a hungry Blacklight.

"Agent Brea?" Captain Oakes reported.

"Status of the inner barrier?"

"Never breached." Never happened in all her memories.

"Captain, co-ordinate with Specialist Cross. Check that the civilians are clear of the virus or NMC infection and start releasing them. Then I want a full strategy meeting at HQ. Call Captain Saddler up to take over clear-up here."

"Ma'am, Captain Saddler notified me that he is still onsite at the last mission." She frowned.

"Blackwatch should have been there three hours ago. Have there been complications?"

"Ma'am, Blackwatch rejected Captain Cross' request. They state that Captain Cross was seconded for the duration of the mission, and has no command authority."

"Really?" she said flatly, looked across at the Blackwatch Captain, pulled out from under the rubble and now directing his troops while a medic tried to stitch his head wound.

"Madigan relayed that, as the mission is complete, General Kherber is demanding the return of the Captain and the Blacklight entity to Blackwatch custody." She did not need her powers to see where that would go.

"Not happening. Blackwatch H.Q. is impractical. Ask Director Fury if the helicarrier could intercept."

"Yes, ma'am." There was a pause "What reason should I give?"

"Because if I want to call out a General who's not doing his job, I'm not doing it on that General's own base!" Her voice cracked with the effort of not swearing, and she reminded herself to keep it calm. She was the officer, she was in charge. Oates stepped away, had the discussion quietly over the radio as she focused on the theatre. No more NMCs, no twisted DNA. The few areas she couldn't see were shrivellling, reducing to a single humanoid form. Good.

"Captain?" she asked, impatiently.

"Director Fury says always a pleasure ma'am."


	4. Into the Fire

**Chapter 4**

Cross didn't bother testing the handcuffs. He was certain SHIELD restraints weren't easy to slip. It was a bit of theatre from Kherber, just like having an entire squad of Blackwatch arrest him the second the transport had touched down on the helicarrier's deck. It had taken a sharp order from him to stand the Wiseman squad down, but Fury's presence had done much to defuse the situation - as had the two SHIELD guards he had insisted accompany Cross.

Even now, in the meeting room, two of Kherber's Blackwatch faithful stood behind him, but the two SHIELD officers behind them would deter any 'accidents' he hoped. It helped that the Blackwatch attention was less on him than on the scowling virus, which was leaning against the wall behind them and returning their glares with interest. This was what Kherber was reducing Blackwatch to? Bullying thugs that acted like they'd never been trapped in a room with a walking outbreak before. He was not impressed.

Fury and Kherber were still outside, what sounded like an argument faintly audible through the doors. Brea had vanished, so he guessed she was out of it. Fury's quick assurance that everything was under control had done little to reassure him, but they hadn't been able to talk without Kherber or his stooges listening in, and talking strategy in front of the enemy just got people killed. The voices grew louder as the door hissed open.

"-internal military matter. Blackwatch will handle it in house and I am the senior officer present." Fury walked in, taking the place at the head of the table as Kherber followed, still arguing. Fury sat down, putting his feet on the table and looked at him.

"The VCJCS disagrees." Kherber waited before it became obvious that Fury wasn't going to let him take control of the meeting and moved to a seat across from Cross.

"The Joint Chiefs?" Kherber sounded disgusted. "You're taking _that_ to Washington?" His gesture to Mercer produced no response from the virus, which was still focused on the increasingly uncomfortable Blackwatch troops.

"No, he's dialled in," Fury said, clicking the screen on. The image came to life, the General seated behind a table. Kherber stood up and saluted. The handcuffs clinked as Cross tried, and a Blackwatch minder's hand kept him in his seat.

"At ease. Captain Cross, salutes are protocol." The General sounded unimpressed.

"In handcuffs?" Fury said, and the General raised an eyebrow.

"He a flight risk?"

"No," Fury said, at the same time as Kherber's 'yes'. "We're two miles up over the Pacific with the transports off-loaded. If the man wants to fly, I'll let him."

"Then get the handcuffs off." Kherber wasn't going to argue the order. One of the Blackwatch guards, reluctantly produced a key and unshackled him. As his hands came free, Cross stood gingerly and saluted. The Vice-Chair returned it. "This everyone, Fury?"

"This is a classified meeting, all personal not directly required, leave," Fury said, rather than answering. One of Cross' Blackwatch escorts put a hand on his arm. Fury didn't even look round. "Captain Cross and Mr. Mercer, you're required." Cross settled back in his seat, uncomfortably aware that Kherber's showtrial had suddenly gone well above his paygrade. As the SHIELD and Blackwatch troops left, Mercer pushed away from the wall, and took a seat round the table from him. It didn't make the Captain feel any better. Kherber addressed the screen.

"Sir, if I may begin my report-" Fury cut him off.

"We're waiting on the Directors of MIST and the CTI." The General looked up sharply, and Fury nodded at him. "SHIELD doesn't know. I do." The General nodded, eyes narrowed.

"Cross, Kherber, those agencies are both top-flight classified. You even dream about those outside this room, your grandchildren will be in Leavenworth."

"Sir, yes sir," Cross barked at the same time as Kherber's restrained "Understood, sir". Fury pressed the intercom button twice, and the door opened. Madigan walked in, followed by Agent Brea. Agent Madigan nodded to Fury with an easy smile as they took the two remaining seats.

"Apologies for the delay, Director, Vice Chair. I had to co-ordinate an ongoing ground op with re-inforcement issues."

"Not a problem, Director Madigan," Fury acknowledged. "General Kherber, this is Interim Director Madigan, MIST and CTI, and Director Brea of MIST." Cross kept his face impassive. He didn't know what the hell those agencies did, but Fury seemed to know both of them. If Wesker had kidnapped a Director-level VIP from an alphabet agency that added enough to the picture to spell trouble.

"I'll be taking a backseat for this, as Madigan's more familiar with the situation," Director Brea added.

"Understood, and glad to have you back with us, Director Brea," the Vice-Chair replied on screen. "Now what is the situation, General Kherber?"

"The requested secondment was completed. ZEUS has been returned to the helicarrier, and Captain Cross is under detainment for working with him," Kherber said, professionally. "Given Cross' known treason, Captain Cross is facing tribunal, the Wiseman squad will be disbanded, and with Director Fury's co-operation Blacklight will be placed in containment for further research." Madigan coughed.

"As you are aware, MIST has had a priority requisition order on the Blacklight entity since the ES18 incident," he said, mildly.

"Blackwatch has no issue sharing the results of our research with MIST once the Blacklight entity is under proper containment." Kherber sounded far too reasonable for Cross' liking. The bastard had always been a political animal, not a military one, and he was in his field here.

"Except that placing the Blacklight entity into containment makes it impossible to fulfil the purpose of the requisition order," Madigan replied evenly.

"Apologies, Director, but I don't see anything the Blacklight can do in MIST containment that it can't do in Blackwatch containment."

"Strategic deployment," Madigan said, and Cross tensed in disbelief. Mercer had said, sworn, no more Penn Stations. What the hell would make him agree to that? Kherber, for once, was in agreement.

"Deploy the virus? Director, I don't think you have any understanding of what you are suggesting. In the interest of National Security, that is utterly unacceptable."

"I'd agree," Fury said. Cross turned his head slightly, looking at the virus out of the corner of his vision. Mercer hadn't moved, almost unnaturally still in his seat. What deal with the devil had Mercer made?

"Not the virus, the entity," Madigan said, his easy manner unchanged. "We want to deploy ZEUS for MIST's combat operations."

"And when ZEUS deploys the virus?" Kherber snapped. There was a low growl from Mercer and the Vice-Chair glowered on screen.

"You have any reason to believe that won't happen?"

"Two successful MIST deployments with no Blacklight outbreak or traces." It was Director Brea cutting in, and the General frowned.

"Two deployments, you claim. You got any proof or these all above my clearance?" His heavy irony didn't phase Brea, who shook her head.

"Not at all. ES18 was a successful field test. MIST operatives and ZEUS combined forces to remove a significant threat to the city. The operation was a full success with limited casualties. No trace of DX1118-C or an outbreak was found during post-op clean-up." Brea looked at Mercer, almost apologetically. "We checked." The virus just nodded. "And then there was today's secondment."

"And ZEUS will co-operate with this?"

"Worked last time." The voice gravelled from under the hood, and Kherber's face twisted in distaste.

"And you think this...creature...will be effective?" the Vice-Chair asked, directing the question to Brea.

"As an artificial lifeform, the..." Director Brea looked at Kherber and changed what she was going to say, "...what we fight can't sense him."

"It." Kherber cut in. "It's an 'it', not a he, and 'it' is not a person." Mercer was too still. If Cross had had his shock stick, he'd have been powering it ready for the pounce.

"The Joint Chiefs have seen the MIST casualty figures, General," Madigan said easily, casually leaning back and placing his feet on the table to mirror Fury. "If ZEUS can drop those, I'll take the chance."

"We have less prolific bio-weapons that could be used." The Vice-Chair suggested.

"When deployed, they were subverted and turned against our troops. ZEUS is sapient," Director Brea said. "When…they…try to subvert Blacklight, Blacklight fights back."

"And General, I believe MIST has a top-flight reputation for managing extermination-class biological weapons." Madigan slid in smoothly. Was it Cross' imagination, or was he carefully not looking at Director Brea?

"More controlled testing would be better," the Vice-Chair said.

"General, with our scheduled deployments over the next seven months, we don't have time," Madigan said. "ZEUS would be a vital element of this deployment series. With half the MIST troops tied up guarding an Umbrella base-"

"That is not MIST's remit," the Vice-Chair snapped.

"No," Madigan said, acknowledging it without complaint or embarrassment. "Captain Cross did request Blackwatch backup, but was overruled."

"Kherber, find out which ass overruled him, and get boots on the ground there now." the Vice-Chair ordered. Kherber saluted, and stepped out of the room. Cross kept his face impassive. Much as he enjoyed the look on Kherber's face, he still had to work for the man. If Madigan was trying not to get him shot, he wasn't doing a good job of it. "I'd still want more oversight."

"Understandable. On operations, MIST troops don't necessarily have the experience or equipment to control ZEUS, or the time," Madigan said easily. "A Blackwatch team or company to manage him would be useful."

"A secondment?" The General nodded thoughtfully. As Kherber returned to the table, the General leaned forward.

"General Kherber, who is your best team?"

"Blackbird team have an established record, Sir, and Lieutenant Forrester can be at HQ by 21:15 tonight." Fury leaned forward.

"Cut the crap, Kherber. The Wiseman team have the best record."

"And Captain Cross is facing treason charges for working with Blacklight."

"So you'd agree Captain Cross already has experience of working with Blacklight?" Madigan said, "and, according to your own mission logs, was the only soldier to take him down during the initial outbreak."

"Hmph." The Vice-Chair looked at Cross. "Captain, think you could take Blacklight down?"

"Sir, yes, sir." Cross deliberately turned his head and on the side away from the screen smirked. The narrow-eyed glare he got from Mercer had 'challenge accepted' written all over it.

"So why the hell didn't you?" Cross knew he had walked into that one. Still, if you're going through hell, keep going.

"I determined there were higher priority threats, Sir." Cross answered truthfully on reflex.

"You determined?" the Vice-Chair said sceptically, as Kherber looked cynical. Cross met the Vice-Chair's eyes squarely and the four-star General must have seen something in them. "Report, Captain."

"Umbrella had a base under L.A. We located Wesker on the bottom level. He sealed the base, stating that he would allow viral levels to reach critical and then in one hour, the containment would drop, releasing the concentrated viral strains into the city."

"I've seen the report. There were no more than viral traces in that base," the VCJCS said.

"No sir. After the threat was neutralised, I thought it best to sterilise it."

"You neutralised a threat on that level?" If Cross could have said yes, it would have solved so many issues. Instead he stuck with the truth.

"No sir. Wesker also stated that as he had now acquired Doctor Mercer, his target, he would extract the information on Blacklight from him and engineer his own strain. That Blacklight was an inefficient bio-weapon that burned out too quickly." He stopped, swallowed.

"And then what?"

"The zombies started coughing, sir." Watching a licker's limbs tearing off from its own bodyweight as it tried to move, infected scientists still far too human as they choked and collapsed. And Mercer simply watching, relaxed, like a man who had put a burden down for a while before he picked it up again. "Backlight went airborne. The Blacklight outbreak burned out within two minutes. We used the remaining time to sterilise any biological remains and make the base safe."

"And Wesker?"

"I put a bullet in the head, sir." The head of the viral abomination that Blacklight and all Wesker's resident strains had turned the scientist into. Cross was sure Mercer had been playing with it at the end, smirking as its form twisted and mutated at Blacklight's whims. 'Dammit, stop playing with your food and eat it' wasn't the greatest epitaph for Wesker but it was better than his squad throwing up in their gas masks. The Vice-Chair nodded thoughtfully.

"And you allowed this?"

"We couldn't have contained a T and G virus outbreak in L.A. As Wesker said, in the worst case Blacklight would have burned itself out."

"I have full control of Blacklight." Mercer hadn't moved. His voice from under the hood sounded inhuman. "No more Penn Stations."

"And you trusted him?" Cross looked the General in the face.

"In the Manhattan outbreak, I could not have got Randall's nuke off the Reagan without him, sir."

"So you have a confession. Cross allowed a Blacklight outbreak, and accessed a nuclear military asset without orders or permission," Kherber said smoothly, triumph under his tone.

"And this meeting is classified, General." The VCJCS reminded him. "Cross, what do you mean Randall's nuke?" Cross's eyes widened. He had filed a full report, as best he could remember when he woke up in the hospital. Somewhere along the line the story had been changed, or classified into non-existence. Kherber's face was set, promising consequences, but Cross had nothing to lose.

"General Randall had a nuclear bomb activated on the deck of the Reagan. He intended to detonate it to destroy the south of Manhattan and any proof of Blackwatch's involvement after the loss of his HVT. My full report was filed after I woke up on the hospital ship."

"Sir, Captain Cross is claiming a two-star General went rogue to cover his own ass." Kherber cut in. "The video footage from the Reagan was lost due to the EMP and there are absolutely no witnesses."

"Me," Mercer gravelled.

"No reliable witnesses." Kherber corrected himself, glaring at Mercer.

"But this does confirm that Cross has worked with Mercer successfully." Madigan slid into the awkward pause effortlessly. "And the Wiseman team have just completed a successful joint op with MIST. Why not make the secondment ongoing?"

"And if I don't, our mutual superior will?" the Vice-Chair said dryly.

"Well, I'll certainly ask. After all, if the military is going to shoot good soldiers for doing the exact job that MIST specifically needs them too..." Madigan shrugged, still friendly, still smiling, and Cross had never trusted him less. The Vice-Chair looked for a moment as though he was trying not to laugh. Then, his composure restored, he continued.

"So the Wisemen team are on secondment to MIST, duration at MIST's discretion. Captain Cross to act as liaision. Charges against Cross are suspended for the duration. Mission reports to my office directly, Captain."

"Sir, yes sir." Cross stood to attention saluting. The Vice-Chair acknowledged and cut the feed. Kherber looked stunned and furious. Cross was too busy wondering what the hell he'd got his men into to enjoy it. Fury sat back, lacing his fingers together.

"Now you're done poaching elite troops, Madigan, don't you have a job to do? And Kherber? Get your ass off my helicarrier."


End file.
